


Reason

by ShadowOfTheNight



Category: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Darkspawn, Denial, Drama, Drunk!Alistair, F/M, Guilt, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Romance, Rough Sex, Spit As Lube, Survivor Guilt, alistair is the warden commander, jowistair, nanders - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 16:36:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2699816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowOfTheNight/pseuds/ShadowOfTheNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair is having a hard time as the Warden-commander, but can the Templar find it in his heart to forgive the blood-mage who lost his family and home after he was backed into a corner and forced to defend himself?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo..... this is a fic i put a lot of work into four and a half years ago. I haven't beta'd it since, so it's likely to fail and fail hard now. But we'll see, yeah? 
> 
> Originally posted on ffnet under the name Oliversgurl

Alistair thumped his head onto his desk with a sigh. There was just so much  _paperwork_. He hadn't realized becoming the leader of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden meant filling out so many forms, and dealing with so much politics. He rubbed his weary eyes and sighed again, filled with a whole new appreciation for Duncan.

A soft knock at his door had him straightening up, tidying his workspace a little before he cleared his throat and said, "Come in."

The door swung open and Alistair grinned, rising to meet his unexpected guest. "Zev! It's good to see you again. I thought you'd left for Antiva permanently."

Zevran grinned back. "How could I leave when you've got all this responsibility as the new Commander of the Grey? Completely unwanted as well, I'm sure." Zevran walked over and hopped up on Alistair's desk. "And so much paperwork too. You need an assistant." He laughed.

Alistair smiled crookedly. "I haven't got the time to find an assistant, Zev. I've been too busy trying to get caught up. Every time I'm nearly finished with a batch, they drop more off and swamp me again."

Zevran peered at Alistair's face. "Have you been sleeping? Can't have you go working yourself to death. Who would the next Commander be then? You'd leave your comrades completely unprepared."

Alistair snorted. "I'm sure they'd managed fine without me, Zev." Then he raised an eyebrow. "Are you volunteering to help me with the paperwork?"

Zevran mock sighed. "I suppose I am." Then he tutted. "You need something to relax you, my overworked friend. How long has it been since-"

Alistair's face shuttered, and he pressed his lips into a thin line. "You know the answer to that, Zevran."

Zevran sighed and hopped off of the desk. "You need to move on, Alistair," He said gently. "It's been two years since-"

"I know how long it's been," Alistair said coldly. "I don't need you to keep reminding me. I don't need to move on. I'm not going to disrespect his memory that way."

Zevran shook his head. "You are disrespecting him by  _not_  moving on. He would want you to be happy. You know this."

Alistair frowned. "If all you're going to do is lecture me about my lack of a sex life, then I think you'd better leave."

Zevran snorted. "Not hardly. One of your Orlesians is bringing in a face you will recognize. I suggest you control your temper."

Alistair's eyes narrowed. "Who is it?"

Zevran grinned. "Now where would be the fun in  _telling_  you? Besides, it's not my job. Yet."

"Zev…" Alistair shot him a look. "Fine, you can stay and help." At the Antivan's grin, he groaned and let his head fall to the desk again. "Maker's breath, you're here  _without_  a lover in a Keep full of young people who don't know how to deal with you… Zev? Do me a favor and try to not upset  _too_  many of my recruits. Their unity is far too important for petty jealousy to start cropping up."

"Me?" Zevran smiled innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Alistair. How dare you insult my virtue in such a manner."

Alistair picked his head up a little and raised an eyebrow. "Virtue? You?" He snorted. "If you still have virtue left, then I'm the Empress of Orlais."

Zevran bowed low and said, "I must bid Her Majesty a good day then. The recruits eagerly await my presence," and then he sauntered out the door.

Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, before standing and shoving the paperwork away.  _There's no way I'm going to get any more work done._

"Ser?"

A light tap on the open door and he flicked his eyes over in that direction. "Ah, Remy." He leaned against the wall with a sigh. "Do you have any more candidates?"

"Just the one, Ser." The Orlesian Warden bowed and waved a man into the room. "I found him defending a group of children from a Darkspawn attack. After we got the children somewhere safe, I decided to bring him back with me."

Alistair took one look at the man being ushered in and lost it. Before he knew what he was doing, his legs carried him over to the new entrant and he grabbed the front of the man's robe and slammed him against the wall. "Jowan," he spat, "How  _dare_  you show your face again, you filthy blood mage?"

Jowan stared up at Alistair and clenched his jaw before saying, "I came here to make a difference. I'm tired of running; I want to do something to help! I have the chance to do that here!"

Alistair felt his hands being pried open by his second-in-command. "Ser, we could use him. If he wants to make himself useful, I say let him."

Alistair whirled on the short blonde, "Do you have any idea what this… maleficar did?" His hands trembled and he clenched them into fists again.

"Does it matter?" Remy asked him quietly. "We need all the help we can get. If he fails the Joining, then that's the end of it. But if he succeeds… that means he was  _meant_  to be here. Just give him that much of a chance, Commander."

Alistair turned his back on them both. "Fine," he snarled. "Just get him out of my sight, and put him through the ritual. Today."

Remy crossed his arms at his chest and bowed before pulling Jowan from the room and heading for the main hall.

Jowan kept stealing glances back at Alistair through the open door until Remy had pulled him around the corner and shoved him away.

"Why did you come here?" the blonde mage asked quietly, as he crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one foot.

"It's like I told him," Jowan said quietly, "I need to make up for everything that I've done. I made some stupid decisions in my past, and I need to prove that I'm not like other Maleficar. I'm not a monster." Jowan slumped back against the wall. "I haven't used my blood magic since the day I escaped from the Tower. And I only did it then because they were going to take Lily to Aeonar. I tried to save her life and she rejected me."

Remy nodded. "What else? I know Alistair wouldn't be this upset for just a Maleficar. What did you do to him?"

Jowan laughed humorlessly. "Nothing to  _him_. Arl Eamon's wife, the Lady Isolde, hired me to tutor her son, Connor, in secret. Just enough so that he could hide and not be taken to the Circle. I was under orders from Loghain to poison Arl Eamon. He told me if I did this for him, I'd be accepted back into the only family I ever knew. People who cared for me. I had a father in Irving and I wanted to go home." He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "If your regent told you that a man was a threat to the security of your nation, you'd follow his orders too.  _Especially_  if he told you, you could go home when all was said and done." He laughed again. "But that isn't even the worst part. They had to kill Connor because the boy made a deal with a desire demon so that Arl Eamon would be spared." He opened his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "They had to kill the boy. He was an abomination, and they had no other choice, since Helios told me to run. If I'd been there… I don't know. I could have done  _something_  to help. Something to spare the boy's life."

Remy stood there silently as he absorbed Jowan's tale. "It looks like life had given you the short end of the stick. You've been treated worse than a Mabari's toy." He grinned. "Come on, let's get you a drink."

Jowan pulled away from the wall and he blinked. "What about the Joining?"

Remy grinned wider. "That's the drink."

Jowan laughed and followed Remy to the main hall. "Do you really believe what you said back there? That… if I make it, I was meant to be here?"

Remy nodded. "We're going to make this private, so the other recruits don't get jealous that you're moving to the front of the line, so to speak." He picked up the goblet and nodded solemnly at Jowan. "There's only you here today, but the words I speak next have been spoken since the first joining, and I will not betray tradition. Join us brothers and sisters… Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."

Jowan swallowed heavily and took a deep breath.  _This is my chance. If I live I can prove to him that I'm not the same person._

"Jowan." Remy held the goblet out. "From this moment forward  _you_  are a Grey Warden."

Jowan took another deep breath before he reached out for the goblet. "Blood. That seems oddly appropriate." And he drank. Feeling the liquid burning its way through his system he cried out, before being swallowed up by darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hot. He was unbearably hot. The inside of his armor a sauna and the moisture in the air caused him to choke every time he took a breath. Yet he was still prodded forward. The lash of a whip and the roar of his Alpha's command had him pushing away every single ache._

_He was a Hurlock. And he would not let the heat of this petty swamp ruin what he was made to do. Maim. Kill. Infect. Poison the land and ruin the creatures that walk the surface. Spread the taint to all living things. Lifting his hands he sent a fireball raging at the decrepit buildings that stood in his way._

_When he saw a ragged band of humans, he laughed and raised his hands again, for today he would feast well._

Jowan jerked himself awake, hand pulsing, ready to strike down whatever menace he… could no longer feel. He dropped his hand and stared around the room. Remy sat propped up in a chair, chin to his chest, snoring gently.

Pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead, Jowan groaned.  _Maker's breath. Why does it taste like something died in my mouth?_  He threw the covers off of his legs and wobbled over to the small pitcher and basin, splashing water on his face and swishing his mouth out with a swig.

The sound of the porcelain knocking together woke Remy from his snooze and he blinked wearily at Jowan. "I see you're finally awake," he said softly. "Congratulations on surviving the Joining. Many brave men and women have failed." He stretched and stood. "And now you get to learn exactly what it means to be a Warden."

Jowan wobbled back over to the bed and sat down, heavily. "What it means? Is there more to being a Warden than just the blood and the ritual and killing Darkspawn?"

Remy left out a soft laugh. "Oh, there's much more. The first thing you're going to notice in an increase in appetite. We keep the larder well stocked, so you're more than welcome to have anything you want, just about any time you want." Then he frowned. "Except for the three cool rooms that are especially marked for the Commander. If you value your life, you won't eat the cheese."

"The…cheese?" Jowan let out a chuckle that died when he saw the look on Remy's face. "What? You're serious? What would he do?"

"The Commander has put far too many recruits through training hell for making off with some of his more expensive cheeses." Remy shivered. "And he would tell us that was the standard for becoming a Templar."

"I take it you know from experience then?"

Remy rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "My first night here last year. I woke late at night, hungrier than I'd ever been before, and I saw this… moldy hunk of cheese. Thinking it was bad and that no one would miss it, I decided to eat it." He chuckled. "Apparently it was a gift from that Antivan friend of his, and it was  _supposed_  to be that way, and it was expensive and rare." He grimaced. "It didn't even taste all that good."

Jowan laughed. "Well, I'll keep that in mind when I get hungry."

Remy smiled weakly back. "Well, the next thing you should know is that you'll be having nightmares. These will be nowhere near as bad as if this were still a Blight. The blood…"

"It's the taint, isn't it?" Jowan interrupted. "The blood carries the taint, and when we drink the blood, we become tainted ourselves." He snorted. "And yet he has the gall to condemn me for the way I harness my magic. Blood is powerful in all its applications." He rubbed his face. "I apologise. Do go on."

Remy raised an eyebrow. "Yes. The taint gives you the nightmares. You  _hear_  the Darkspawn. Anything that you see is likely going on at that very minute. The taint  _also_  shortens your lifespan. You have thirty years left, my friend. Give or take. When those thirty years are up, most Wardens head to the Deep Roads to fight until they are overwhelmed." Remy leaned back in his chair with a sigh. "And the last thing you should know-"

"A Warden has to die to kill an Archdemon." Alistair stood in the doorway, wearing severe expression. "Darkspawn are soulless. So when the soul of the Archdemon flees its dying body, it heads straight to the nearest tainted creature." He stepped further into the room, arms crossed. "When it heads into the body of the Warden that killed it, it encounters the soul already there. And both are destroyed."

Jowan sat still for a moment.  _This is why Helios died._  "Destroyed? Not just killed? Then how do we keep getting more Archdemons?"

Alistair glared. "Who knows how many Old Gods are left? I certainly don't." He headed for the doorway. "Now. Take him around to meet the others. And then get him into training. He's going to need it because I want him just as capable with weapons as any of my other soldiers."

Remy cleared his throat. "Ser, remember, there are two more Old Gods left. So there's a potential for two more Blights to occur. Of course we don't know when that will happen." He snorted and stood.

Alistair sighed heavily. "It's a steep price to pay, but we're the only ones who can. But just two more and we'll be free from the threat of Blights forever…" He laid a hand on the doorframe. "That still doesn't make me feel any better." And then he was gone.

Jowan closed his eyes and bit his lip before letting out a soft sigh. "Well, you heard him. Let's introduce me to the others."

Remy nodded uncomfortably. "The Commander is on edge about your presence here as it is, so for the Love of Andraste, do your best to stay out of his way and on his good side. He can, and will, make your life here a living hell." He rubbed his face. "I, or one of the other mages is going to need to tutor you, I think. It would not be wise to practice your blood magic here. He will certainly have orders to prevent that."

Jowan nodded. "If it will keep me here, and keep him from forcing me to leave, then I'll do whatever I have to."

Remy furrowed his brows and frowned. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but a startled cry from the doorway interrupted him.

"Jowan?"

Jowan raised a startled gaze to the man at the door. "Anders? Anders, by the Maker, it's you!"

Anders swept into the room and pulled Jowan into a hug. "It's good to see you again, my old friend." He pulled back and grinned. "So you got pulled into this Warden madness too, I see."

Remy sat back down again. "I see there's one person I don't need to introduce you to. Anders, how do you know him?"

Anders chuckled. "He was the only one in the Tower to be so close in age to the full mages and still be an apprentice. Most who'd gone through their Harrowing wouldn't talk to him, and as I didn't care for Tower politics…" he shrugged. "It all comes down to the both of us needing a friend, and finding one in each other and in Helios Amell." A flicker of pain flashed over his face before the grin was back.

Jowan nodded, "So what are  _you_  doing here? I thought Rylock was going to have you executed for sure last time."

Ander shifted a little uncomfortably. "Well… I escaped. Again. And when they were hauling me back the last time, we stopped off here. The Darkspawn attacked that night, and Alistair conscripted me to save my life."

Jowan shook his head incredulously. "And Rylock let you go that easy?"

Ander snorted. "Hardly. She tried to come after me again, to just kill me. And I thought that Alistair would let her have me, him being an ex-Templar, but he fought her and killed her." He shook his head. "Said it was because I was one of his Wardens, apostate or no."

Jowan's eyebrows rose. "Maybe there's some hope for me, yet."

Anders nodded. "Give him a chance to cool down. He's a very reasonable man. He even let-"

"Me become a Warden." A sharp faced man with dark hair spoke from just inside the room. He was leaning against the doorframe and smirking.

Anders grinned a little goofily. "This is Nathaniel Howe."

Jowan gaped. "Howe? As in, Arl Rendon Howe's son? Wait, how long were you standing there?"

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and stepped further into the room. "I was here the whole time. And yes, I am, but here I thought I was done with these kinds of reactions."

"I've been out of touch with the world," Jowan confessed.

"Ah." Nathaniel shrugged and then laid a hand on Anders' shoulder. "Come on now, Mage. We're going to be late. You were the one that was in a hurry before."

Anders' eyes widened almost comically. "Maker's Breath! I nearly forgot!" And he gave Jowan one last hug and said, "We can finish catching up later!" before grabbing Nathaniel's sleeve and nearly dragging the dark-haired man out of the room.

Jowan turned to Remy, "What was that about?"

"The Commander has them making a trip to Amaranthine for some supplies, or something." Remy quirked a half grin. "Personally, I think it's just an excuse to get them out of the Keep. Alistair is tired of them making doe eyes at each other." He snorted. "You'd think after a year of being lovers they'd have moved past that stage now."

Jowan blinked rapidly for a moment. "Wait… what?"

Remy raised an eyebrow. "You didn't see that?"

"I… He was such a womanizer at the Tower though. It's a little hard to believe that he's not only," Jowan waggled a hand, "you know, but monogamous as well."

Remy chuckled. "Some people change more drastically than others." He stood up again. "Come on, Captain Daveth is next. He's in charge of training the new recruits."

Jowan nodded, and followed Remy to the training grounds.

"Daveth!" Remy called and waved his hand. "I've brought some fresh meat for you. The Commander wants this mage to be trained just like the rest of us."

Daveth grinned. "It's good to meet you, Ser Mage."

Jowan politely inclined his head. "And you as well. What can I expect out here?"

"Well, I'm not going to go easy on you just because you're a mage," Daveth explained. "You'll be worked just as hard as the rest of the green recruits. Have to build up muscle and all. Training begins at sunrise, so you'd better be up and in the parade block before that. Make sure you eat plenty. I've had more than a few recruits slack off because they thought they were putting on flab and ended up passing out." He jabbed a finger at Jowan's shoulder. "And don't forget to get plenty of water. We have buckets out here for drinking and dunking in. I take care of my recruits and I expect them to take care of themselves. Are we clear?"

Jowan blinked, "Ah, yes, Ser. Very clear, Ser."

Daveth grinned and clapped him on the back. "Well done, then! I expect to see you out here bright and early tomorrow. Get plenty of rest tonight."

Jowan nodded.

"Thanks, Daveth." Remy smiled. "Let's move along then, Jowan."

Jowan nodded again and was led away from the training grounds, this time towards the kitchens.

When Remy opened the door, Jowan saw a tiny woman with flaming red hair and nut brown skin flitting from table to table, checking, tasting, and giving orders in a crisp voice to everyone involved in the cooking. She saw them standing in the doorway and strode over. "Remy! You're bringing me another new Warden, no? He is scrawny." Her accent revealed she was from Antiva and she poked Jowan in the side. "Very scrawny. What is your name?"

He stared down into her bright blue eyes before stepping back a little. "Jowan. My name is Jowan."

She snorted. "What are you afraid of boy?"

Jowan shook his head. "You're very intimidating, my lady."

She roared with laughter. "Lady, he says! I like this one Remy. We're keeping him, aren't we?"

Remy grinned. "Yes, Calista. We're keeping him, despite the Commander thinking I'm insane for bringing him."

"What's new with that?" She nudged him with her elbow. "You keep bringing back dangerous criminals; of course he's going to think you're mad."

Jowan let out a startled noise. "W-what? You keep… what?"

Calista laughed again. "You mean Remy didn't tell you? Our fearless second in command has a bad habit of conscripting the worst kind of folks. Most don't survive. I think he does that on purpose." She confided in a stage whisper.

"That is not why I conscript them!" Remy protested.

"Of course, love." She stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. "Now get going. Both of you, out of my kitchen for now! I need to get back to work on supper for this lot. I swear, one day I'll just up and quit. I must have been mad to sign onto this job!" Then she turned her back on the two of them and started shouting orders again.

Remy pushed Jowan out of the door and closed it. "Now, the Seneschal should be down there. I'm just going to head back in this direction and um… right." He pointed in both directions and then fled.

Jowan almost called him back for an explanation but instead sighed and trudged onward to meet the Seneschal and get this day over with.


	3. Chapter 3

"Why do you put up with this?"

Jowan shook his head and squinted a little. "What?"

Anders sighed in exasperation and stabbed at his dinner. "I said, 'Why do you put up with this?' It's not like you to take this kind of abuse lying down."

Jowan deliberately avoided Anders' gaze. "I don't know what you're talking about. What abuse?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Anders said, his voice clipped and angry. "But in case you've developed selective memory loss, let me remind you. I'm talking about the abuse our  _dear_ Commander of the Grey has heaped on you over the last year."

Jowan winced. "He has every right to treat me like that, or have you already forgotten what I did to the Arl?"

"Right? That man has no  _right_  to treat you like this." Anders gesticulated wildly. "You've more than made up for your mistakes."

Jowan shushed him, looking worried. "Come on. If I tell you why I stay and put up with it, will you drop it?"

Anders perked up. "I can't promise anything, but I'll do my best."

Jowan slumped in relief, before grabbing Anders by the arm and dragging the other man off.

Alistair, meanwhile, was pacing around his workroom, muttering to himself when Zevran strolled in. "Alistair," he began, "I need another room," he complained.

"What for?" Alistair asked with some surprise.

"They are too close to your Howe and his pet mage." Zevran sighed. "And they are  _very_ loud."

Alistair let out a bark of surprised laughter. "I never thought you'd be one to be bothered by that."

"I wasn't," he replied a little miffed, "but the young man in my bed at the time, was." he shrugged.

Alistair couldn't help it; he started laughing until tears rolled down his face.

"I don't see what's funny about this situation." He frowned. "There's something else too. About Jowan."

Alistair's mirth immediately evaporated and that shuttered look drew itself over his face again. "What did he do this time?"

"This is not anything he has done." Zevran shook his head. "This is about what you are doing to him."

Alistair shrugged. "Blood mage." As if those two words explained everything, and perhaps, to him, they did.

Zevran snorted. "Has he used those abilities once since he's been here?"

Sullen, "No."

"Has he given you any reason to distrust him?"

"No."

Zevran made a noise of frustration, "Can't you treat him the same way Helios would? Your beloved?  _Who was also a blood mage_?"

Alistair went cold. "That was out of necessity. To defeat the Blight."

"And how do you know that Jowan did not also do this thing out of necessity?" Zevran pressed. "Have you ever talked to the man other than to put him down?"

Alistair said nothing, stomach churning as he turned to stare out of the window.

"What are you afraid of, Alistair?" Zevran stepped up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

_Everything. I'm afraid of my feelings. I'm afraid of not hating him. I'm afraid of forgetting Helios._  "Zev…" A sigh as he twisted out of the Antivan's grasp. "I'm afraid he's going to turn on us." The lie made his insides twist like live snakes.

Zevran snorted but let the subject, and his hand, drop. "Then why don't you go and look for him?"

Alistair blinked. "Yes. I-I think I will."

In another part of the Keep, Jowan was looking nervously around for listeners. "Look, you have to keep this to yourself, Anders."

Anders nodded.

"I mean it. No telling your lover any of this," Jowan cautioned. "This is something I went to great lengths to hide." He smiled wryly. "I even went and got a woman by the name of Lily involved, so I could run."

Anders blinked. "What?"

Jowan took a deep breath. "Listen, and don't interrupt. Please. I've been in love with Alistair for years." He kept his voice low. "Remember when he served at the Tower?" He waited for Anders' nod before continuing. "After he left, I found Lily… and I  _used_  her to get me out of the Tower, even before I found out they wanted to make me Tranquil. I studied blood magic so I'd be ready to use it if I ever had to. But the only time I did was when they backed me into a corner. After I destroyed my phylactery." He sighed. "I never thought I'd see Alistair again, and then that day in Arl Eamon's dungeon…" He sighed again. "When Helios died, I thought if I just waited, I could have my chance. It was a long shot, but I put myself in a place to be found and here I am. But he won't even give me the time of day and I'm running out of options."

Anders pulled Jowan into a hug. "Give it some more time. I'll come up with a plan, or something."

Jowan sighed again before returning the hug and pulling away. "Look, go back to dinner. I need to do some thinking."

Anders nodded and slipped away.

Jowan had been leaning against the wall for a few minutes before he heard "Oh. There you are. Who are you planning to poison  _this_  time?"

Jowan stared defiantly up into Alistair's emotionless gaze. "It's been over three years, and I've not used my blood magic in four. Since I ran away from the Tower. Everyone has forgiven me, even Eamon himself. Why can't you?"

Alistair looked away. "I don't forgive maleficar."

Jowan let out a bark of incredulous laughter. "When did you tell that to Helios? Before or after you fucked him?"

Anger flared within Alistair followed by an icy numbness. "I loved him. Maker knows he had his faults, but I loved him."

"You're a liar," Jowan said in a calculating tone. "You're a liar, Alistair. He was just a warm body to you, wasn't he? It was easy to overlook the blood magic when he was lying with his legs spread in your tent."

Alistair's hands clenched and he took a menacing step forward. "Shut up. I don't want to hear another word out of you. Just shut up."

"Afraid of the truth?" Jowan snorted. "I thought as much. If I'm wrong  _show me_. Prove to me that I'm wrong. If the blood magic  _really_  wasn't a problem,  _then show me._ " Jowan stared defiantly up at Alistair. There was no going back, not now. Not after throwing those words at the ex-templar, trying to force the man into something resembling emotions.

Alistair's face was unreadable and he stormed forward, grabbing the mage by the front of his robes and delivering a brutal kiss.

Jowan groaned as Alistair completely overpowered him, shoving him against the wall and mashing their lips together, all teeth and tongue.

Alistair pulled back, a feral gleam appearing in his eyes as he turned Jowan around and forced the mage's face to press against the cool stone, even as he knelt to the floor.

Jowan's hands scrabbled for purchase on the wall in front of him, every nerve in his body on fire. Alistair flipped up the end of his robes and rose, blunt nails scratching along his thighs and rear. He was more aroused than he'd ever been in his life, gasping as the ex-templar smacked his backside.

Alistair then pressed himself flush to Jowan's back. "Is this what you wanted?" he breathed into the dark-haired man's ear, lust completely clouding out reason.

Jowan merely moaned in answer, arching his back and shifting his hips to grind backwards into Alistair's.

The blonde man chuckled and pulled back slightly to rake his nails along Jowan's back, under the robes, before pulling the mages smallclothes to his ankles. All measure of sanity gone from his mind; he wrapped an arm around Jowan's waist and roughly stroked the mage's heated erection.

Jowan's hips bucked into Alistair's hand and he threw his head back to stare over his shoulder into the other man's eyes.

Alistair grinned, and without faltering, thumbed off his breeches and smallclothes and rested himself against the cleft of Jowan's backside. "Tell me you want this," he demanded. "Tell me this is what you meant."

Jowan moaned again, swallowing his whimpers. "Yes," he breathed. "Yes, by all the Maker created, yes."

"Good." Alistair slicked his fingers and pressed the first one roughly inside of Jowan, searching for that which would make sparks fly in front of the other man's eyes, and weaken his knees. Locating the spot, he  _pressed_  and used the opportunity to slip another finger inside of the trembling mage.

Jowan's hands clenched convulsively on the stone wall and he cried out, whimpers pouring from his lips.

Alistair scissored his fingers, making a token effort to stretch Jowan before pressing himself deep inside.

The mage hissed and ground his teeth together, determined to show no sign of pain, and once Alistair was fully sheathed inside him, he pressed back.

Alistair took the hint, pulling away before pressing forward. It didn't take him long at all to build up a bruising rhythm; his right hand keeping pace, stroking Jowan, and his left delivering hard smacks to the mage's rear at regular intervals.

At that rate, it didn't take long to push Jowan over the edge. He pressed his forehead to the cool stone of the wall as his muscles trembled and convulsed and he cried out, "Oh, Maker! Anh! Ali- Alis- Alistair!"

Alistair followed not long after the mage and as his head cleared he pulled back and stared in horror at Jowan. Swallowing hard, he babbled out an apology before yanking his breeches back on and  _running_ from the hallway.

Jowan, all wobbly legged and woozy, tottered forward and called out, "Alistair! Wait!" before tumbling to the floor, tripped by his own weak legs and the smallclothes tangled around his ankles.

He stayed like that a moment, pressed to the cool stone of the floor, before he gathered his legs up underneath himself, put his clothes in order, and stumbled off to his room.


	4. Chapter 4

Alistair stared morosely into the cup of ale he'd pilfered from Oghren. He hadn't had any, not yet. He was just remembering the last time he got drunk: after the death of the Archdemon. That had only been a tankard of normal ale, but he'd woken up the next morning with a headache the size of Antiva, a mouth that tasted like a graveyard, no memory of the previous night, and lying next to Zevran. He knew nothing had happened between them, as they had both still been clothed, but the way Zev smirked at him for a week afterward had been unnerving.

Taking a firm grip on the handle, he tipped the tankard up to his mouth and took a swig. He shuddered as the foul brew slipped into his stomach, creating a hazy pool of warmth in his midsection. Taking a deep breath, he took another sip and started wandering the halls, determined to get to his room before anything blew up in his face.

He squinted. And staggered. And fell against the wall when he saw Jowan lurking outside of his door. "What're… what're yoo doin' here?" he slurred out.

"Maker's breath! Alistair! How much have you had to drink?" Jowan hurried over to him and tried to take the ale away, but the blonde whined and pulled back.

"Mine! And it's first one. Why does it matter?"

Jowan managed to catch a glimpse into the tankard and groaned. "Alistair, this is over half full. Are you sure this is your first one?"

Alistair glared at him. Of course this was his first one. Did the brunet really think he'd polished off a few before staggering back to his room? "Of course first. But Oghren…" He shook his head. "Oghren's doesn't know. Shhhhh…" He pressed a finger to Jowan's lips in a hushing motion and then giggled.

"Oh, Andraste's blood," Jowan muttered, supporting Alistair, who was now leaning on him. "Oghren's ale. I should have known. Come on then, Commander. Let's get you to bed and get that alcohol away from you."

Alistair blinked innocently down at the mage. "Take it away? Why? Wait!" His face lit up in a grin. "You can have the rest. And then we can talk." He nodded.

Alistair watched as a blush bloomed on the mage's face. "No, Ser." A gulp. "I don't think that would be appropriate."

Alistair pouted. "BAH. Drink wif me! Pleeeaaase?"

Jowan massaged his forehead and started shifting his weight to get them moving. "Ser, why do you want me to drink with you?"

"Because." Alistair grinned, this was all too perfect. "Because I… I think I really like you, Jowan, and I want you drunk, too." Too bad his mental capacities reverted to that of a four year old.

Jowan sputtered. "Ser, how do those two lines of thought even-"

"Drink!" Alistair interrupted with a goofy grin and tipped the tankard up to Jowan's lips, forcing the mage to drink, lest he get alcohol all down his front.

Alistair watched as the mage sputtered and then he tired to raise the tankard again, but to his disappointment, was fended off this time. He tried another tack. "Jowaaaannn…" he whined, "Help me into my room?" He really wanted the mage in there and really wanted the other man to not leave. There wouldn't be any leaving on his part. Not this time. And since I'm drunk, his mind reasoned, it's not like he'll be like before. Yes, mind. Thank you.

He watched the emotions flicker over Jowan's face before the mage slumped in a resigned sort of way and said, "Of course, Commander. Lean on my shoulder, we're almost there."

Alistair did his best to not cheer out loud and slumped against the mage once more, taking another sip of his ale.

When Jowan managed to get him into the room and set him onto the bed, he grabbed the dark-haired man and pulled him into a hug. "Thank you," he mumbled into Jowan's robes, hands sneakily making their descent.

Jowan sighed and patted him on the head. "It was right here. You could have made it here by yourself."

Alistair looked up at him with wide innocent eyes. "But what if I'd fallen! What if something had happened to me in the, uh, small space between here and there?" His hands slipped a little lower.

Jowan fixed him with an unamused look. "You are drunk, Ser. But not that drunk, so I'd lik- eep!"

Alistair approved of that noise, and grabbed a double handful of Jowan's rear again, just to see if the mage would squeak again.

He did. "Eep! Commander! Stop that!" He twisted away, much to Alistair's disappointment, and stepped back to the door. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened earlier," he said, eyes nervously darting around.

Alistair flopped back onto his bed. "Don' wanna talk about it," he mumbled, his mood plummeting. "I hurt you. Used you." He looked up and blinked. "Why're you still here? Why do you… stay?"

Jowan sighed and leaned against the doorframe, expression unreadable. "Alistair, if I'd wanted to get away from you, I could have. I'm not helpless anymore. You have your Captain Daveth to thank for that." He quirked a wry grin.

Alistair lurched off of the bed and stumbled over, leaning against Jowan again. "But why stay? Why? I.. treat you bad."

He felt the smaller man sigh and then heard, "Because I care about you, Alistair. I…" A pause. "I love you. And it's not likely you'll remember any of this in the morning, so just… go to bed, Commander."

Alistair pulled back and leaned in for a kiss, his hands lightly gripping the shorter man's shoulders. His lips touched Jowan's only briefly before he staggered back to the bed, tankard and foul mood forgotten.

Jowan poked at his food miserably the next morning and sighed every few minutes until Anders jabbed him in the shoulder. "Ow! What?" He rubbed the tender spot and glowered. "Is this so important you had to stab me?"

Anders snickered and he grinned. "I've got a plan. Alistair is heading out today and planned on taking Nate and I with him. But," he said in a sing-song, "I'm rather sick today." He let out an obviously fake cough. "Nate will have to stay behind to take care of me, and since Remy has to watch the Keep while our illustrious Commander is away…" He trailed off and waved a hand in the air.

Jowan paled. Well, more so than usual. "You're… Maker. You're jesting! You have to be!" He buried his face in his hands. "Alone. With Alistair. A grumpy Alistair who is sure to have a hangover. Maker, I'm doomed."

Anders blinked in surprise. "A hangover? But he doesn't drink. I've never seen him with even the smallest amount of alcohol."

"That's because Alistair can't hold it." Zevran settled himself at the table. "My dear friend has the lowest tolerance for ale that I've ever seen." He grinned. "A single tankard and he won't remember anything."

Anders bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "So, Jowan, why will he have a hangover?"

Jowan buried his face in his hands. "He got into Oghren's brew. Maker only knows why he did it, but he managed about a third of it last night."

Zevran tilted his head curiously. "And how did you come across this knowledge? Last I saw of Alistair, he was still making up reasons to hate you."

Jowan went scarlet. "Uhm. There was a… an altercation," he mumbled. "I was trying to talk to him about it, since he seemed to… misunderstand. I was outside of his door when he staggered up and tried to force some of that ale on me."

Anders covered his mouth with a hand to muffle his snickering and Zevran just raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

Shortly afterward Alistair slouched into the dining hall, looking belligerent. Jowan buried his face in his hands with a small whimper, trying to make himself look as unassuming as possible.

Alistair zeroed in on them though, quickly followed by Nathaniel. "Anders. Come on," he said, squinting. "We need to get an early start."

Anders chose that moment to display his acting skills. With a cough that sounded real enough to cause a look of panic to flicker across Nathaniel's face, he grinned weakly. "Sorry, Commander. I don't know how I managed to catch a cold." Even his voice sounded rough. Jowan was impressed.

Nathaniel pushed past Alistair, gathering Anders up in his arms. "Sorry, Commander." His tone nearly the same as Anders' was. "I'm not going if he's sick."

Zevran raised an eyebrow and then grinned. "Take Jowan with you. You need a mage with you, and everyone else is going to be busy."

Jowan looked up in horror into Alistair's grumpy face. "Fine," the warrior said grudgingly. "But if he turns me into a toad, I'm blaming you. Come on." Alistair turned on his heel and strode out of the dining hall, Jowan slouching along behind him.

"This is all your fault!"

"My fault?" Jowan leapt over a fallen log. "How in the Maker's Hells is this my fault! You're the one that wanted to take the long way around to the Black Marsh!"

Alistair opened his mouth and caught a mouthful of tree branch. Spitting leaves out, he snarled, "If you hadn't insisted on trying to sneak past them, we could have killed the sentries and this horde wouldn't be chasing after us!"

That did it. Jowan slowed to a halt and pulled out his dagger, turning to face the oncoming darkspawn. "Commander, hide."

"What? What are you-"

Jowan turned his head to look back at Alistair. "I'm sorry! I never wanted to use this again! Now hide!"

Alistair's eyes widened and he lunged forward as he figured out what Jowan was about to do. "No! You are not allowed to use blood magic! That's an order!"

"Then you can discipline me for disobeying if we survive this." He swept his staff around, knocking Alistair to the ground, and then turned back, letting it fall beside the commander. Stabbing into his wrist, he grit his teeth against the pain as he drug the knife up to his elbow.

Alistair gazed upward, winded but unharmed, watching as Jowan performed the most complicated piece of magic he'd ever seen. When the whirlwind of blood and debris was gone, the forest was silent, the darkspawn dead. And there stood Jowan, smiling weakly at him, arm dripping before the blood loss caused him to faint.


	5. Chapter 5

Alistair hauled Jowan's unconscious body to a small cave that was nothing more than a mossy hillock exposed in the swamp. He did his best to bind the mage's arm and applied a poultice, before sitting back to wait.

He risked his life to save mine… Alistair pondered in awed silence. He risked everything to use his magic to save my life. Even after what I did to him. Alistair shuffled into a comfortable position, determined to keep watch until Jowan woke.

Jowan woke to nature calling him quite urgently a few hours later. Struggling to sit up, he came face to scowling face with Alistair. "Ah! Commander, I-"

A hand clamped onto his shoulder, keeping him in place. "You can explain yourself when I'm through." Alistair's face seemed slightly flushed and his eyes were bright and unfocused.

"No, Commander, I-"

"After!"

"Alistair!" Jowan yelled and then quickly lowered his voice, "There's a bush somewhere out there that needs watering, and it's got my name on it."

Alistair blinked at him and then chuckled, before waggling his hand. "Fine, fine. Go," a snort, "water the bush."

Jowan rose gingerly to his feet, his drained body protesting the movement and he clenched his teeth against a pained groan. Waving off a helping hand from Alistair he shuffled off, looking for a suitable shrub.

After relieving himself, he shuffled back to the hillock only to see Alistair passed out in an unusual position on the ground. After a panicked check of the downed man's vitals, he made a frustrated noise and muttered, "Alistair, you idiot. You're in a swamp and you didn't even think to take off your armor."

Jowan sighed and set about removing his commander's armor, one piece at a time, trying not to disrupt the man any more than he had to. He struggled with the unfamiliar buckles and straps for a while, before he finally figured them out and slid the splintmail off. He stood there a moment, wondering on where to put it, before he decided to just toss it in a corner and get the rest of the armor off.

That part of his task done, he sat back and peeled off his robes. I'd rather not get just as sick. He's depending on me, and I'm weak enough as is. He was pleased to discover a lyrium potion in Alistair's pack and downed it. Feeling some of his strength return, he soaked his robes in the water outside and, after wrapping them around Alistair, he let a whisper of magic frost his fingers and chill the water-soaked robes. There. He sat back on his heels, satisfied. That will keep the fever down. Now let's see if there's anything to cook in these packs.

Taking care to keep himself cool, cook, and keep a watchful eye on Alistair, Jowan spent the next few hours very busy.

When Alistair's eyes fluttered open, Jowan was right beside him and pressed the back of his hand to the warrior's forehead. "Fever's gone," he murmured and then smiled in relief. "Welcome back to the land of the living, commander."

Alistair blinked groggily at him and then his eyes flickered around his surroundings, finally landing on Jowan's nude form. "You're naked!" he blurted, a blush infusing his cheeks as he scrambled to sit upward. Then he looked down at himself and he blushed down to his toes. "I'm naked!"

Jowan couldn't help it. He started laughing. "Yes, Ser. You had a fever and this was the easiest way to keep you, as well as myself, cool."

Alistair buried his face in his hands, and mumbled something.

"What was that?"

Alistair looked up, not meeting Jowan's eyes. "I said: 'I'm starving. Is the food I smell ready?'"

Jowan nodded and leaned over to the fire, picking up a bowl and dishing out some stew for Alistair. "Here, Ser. I've already eaten, so the rest is all yours." Then he waited patiently for Alistair to devour three bowls of the stuff before they settled into an uncomfortable silence.

Alistair cleared his throat awkwardly and bit his lip. "I want to apologise," he said softly. "I was wrong about you. I'm sorry. You're not… not a monster."

Jowan let a long breath out of his nose. "Thank you," he said softly. "That means a lot to me."

The silence stretched again, until Alistair broke it once more, shuffling around. "I also want to apologise for the other day," he said, shamefaced. "I hurt you. I lashed out at you, and what I did was unforgivable." He drew in a deep shaky breath. "Why didn't you leave? Why do you stay? Why did you save my life?"

Jowan smiled. "Slow down. I can only answer one question at a time." He pondered for a moment, unsure of where to begin. "All three of those have the same answer." He bit his lip. "I love you, Alistair. I have for years. And we had this conversation last night, though I'm not surprised you don't remember anything."

"What?" Alistair blinked.

"You got yourself drunk." Jowan snickered. "On half a tankard of Oghren's vile ale. It was quite an amusing thing to see."

"Oh, Maker." Alistair paled. "What did I do?"

"Nothing really. You asked me to help me to your room." Jowan grinned. "And then you made this very same apology. I'll tell you the same thing I told you last night. If I'd wanted to run, you couldn't have held me." He wiggled his fingers.

Alistair sighed. "That's still no excuse for what I did."

"Alistair," Jowan said very seriously, "I wanted that. Wanted you. I'd done all I could to make that clear, short of saying something outright. So let me make this very clear to you, right now." He clenched his trembling hands together. "I love you, and I wanted that. I want you, and I want you to do that again. As often as you'd like." He blushed.

Alistair gaped at him for a minute before closing his mouth with a click. "I was afraid," he murmured. "I was afraid of the way I'd been feeling. I tried to push everything away by making up reasons to hate you; to keep you at a distance." He placed a hand on Jowan's cheek and pulled the two of them together for a slow, sensual kiss. "Can you forgive me?"

Jowan pressed his forehead to Alistair's, feeling a grin tug at the corners of his lips. "Only if you keep kissing me like that."

Alistair laughed and tilted the mage's chin up, kissing him again. "I think I can manage that."

Jowan surrendered himself to the kisses, keeping a hand on the back of Alistair's head to make sure the ex-Templar wasn't going to leave him there, wanting. No chance of that though, it seemed, as Alistair's hands gripped his shoulder and hip, pulling the two closer together. Jowan parted his lips under Alistair's, deepening the kiss. He felt almost dizzy as the blond's tongue gently caressed his own and then he nearly chuckled. Alistair still tasted like the cheese they'd had with dinner.

He was so wrapped up in finally kissing Alistair, that he didn't notice the hand had gone from his hip until thick and callused fingers wrapped around his erection. He gasped and shifted his hips a little, silently asking for more contact.

Alistair obliged, palming him gently, the motion a little awkward and hesitant, but enough to have him arching into the heat and breaking the kiss. Lidded eyes watched the growing expression of wonder on the other man's face, the delight Alistair seemed to have at being able to make him groan like he was.

Before he got too caught up in the pleasure of it all, Jowan ghosted a hand around to Alistair's front, taking him in hand and holding back a laugh at the stutter in the blonde's touch. His own strokes were a little more confident and watching the pleasure that was starting to come to Alistair's face, the parting of his lips, his eyes alternating between being open wide and pinched shut, and the little groans that escaped his throat.

"Maker." The hand that wasn't wrapped around him drew him even closer, sliding around and into his hair to pull him into another kiss. "Jowan, that-"

"Mmm, I know."

Alistair bit his lip. "Can I... C-c-can I..."

Jowan raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

"Just lay back!" Alistair said, pushing gently on Jowan's shoulder. "Lay back and let me try something, alright?"

Jowan nodded and allowed himself to be pushed onto his back, legs partially spread with Alistair kneeling between them.

Alistair leaned over him, hands planted on either side of his chest, and began to pepper kisses all over Jowan's neck, down to his collarbone, and down his chest. When the blond reached Jowan's nipple, the fluttery kisses turned to short nips that had the mage groaning again. Hands clamped onto his shoulders as Alistair used teeth and tongue to turn both nipples into little peaks. When the blond seemed satisfied with his work, he continued his gentle kissing, hands now clamped on the Mage's hips.

Jowan looked up when the kisses stopped. "Alistair, what-?"

Alistair contemplated the bobbing organ in front of him for a moment, before he smiled a little and took the tip in his mouth, swirling his tongue around to get used to the taste of pure Jowan.

Jowan was remarkably proud of his self-control at this point. It took all he had to keep his hips still and not drive up into that wet heat. Though when those lips inched down around him and the tongue continued to swirl, a wail escaped his lips and he couldn't help but arch his hips up to meet those gentle bobs.

After a few minutes of this gentle torture, Jowan gripped Alistair's shoulders and let a little whimper escape. "Alistair, please," he begged softly.

Alistair pulled back completely and sat on his heels. "Are you sure?"

Jowan nodded, and responded with a breathy, "Yes, Alistair. By the Maker's shiny gold cutlery, yes."

Alistair bit back a grin, swallowed hard and slicked his fingers well with saliva, before inserting the first. He watched Jowan's face carefully, ready to stop at the first sign of real pain, before inserting the second. He wriggled his fingers around, looking for that little knot of pleasure, and when he found it, he pressed, taking great delight in the way Jowan's body twitched and how the mage let loose another wail. Taking great care to keep hitting that spot, he scissored his fingers until he was sure he'd stretched Jowan enough.

Jowan lay back with his eyed closed, whimpering as the fingers were removed, but moaning when they were replaced by something substantially larger. He wrapped his legs around Alistair's waist and held his arms out, getting Alistair to pull him into an embrace.

Entwined like that, they rocked together, a rhythm they could feel, rather than hear. The slow buildup was almost more than Jowan could take and he buried his face into Alistair's shoulder until he felt tension coiling in his belly. With a desperate groan he pulled Alistair into another kiss, feeling his seed coat both of their stomachs.

Alistair followed him over the precipice not long after, unable to hold back after feeling Jowan's body spasm around him.

After holding each other for a few minutes longer Alistair pulled them apart with mirrored groans. He slumped to his side and pulled Jowan down with him, turning the mage so that his back was to Alistair's chest.

A smile played around Jowan's lips as he settled into the larger man's hold. Finally. I've finally made it. He closed his eyes, content, for the first time that he could remember.

Sometime later Jowan woke to a soft chuckle. Opening his eyes he saw Zevran standing at the mouth of the cave, smirking, as Anders and Nathaniel looked politely away.

Alistair woke with a groan, and upon hearing the Antivan laughing, he buried his face into Jowan's neck and said two words, "Not again."


End file.
